“We’re very sorry to hear about your husband, Mrs. Bruckner,” Val said for both of them, meaning it, thinking how difficult losing a lifelong mate must be.
“Thank you. Now that you understand my circumstances, I feel it’s my duty to tell you what I know. I pray the man you are seeking isn’t Byron Mahler, but I feel no loyalty to him anymore.”
Ethan made no comment. Letting Mrs. Bruckner set the pace, he took a sip of his lemonade.
“Byron Mahler was born at his parents’ home in Ohio. His mother and father were good Amish farmers who moved to Texas to begin a settlement. With the weather and the harsh landscape it was very difficult, and a number of the families left the area. Jacob Mahler refused to give up. One day, Ruth Mahler, Byron’s mother, just up and left. She abandoned her husband and son and never returned.”
The small woman’s hand shook as she took a sip of her lemonade. “Byron changed after that. He was twelve at the time, just beginning to discover girls. After his mother left, he was bitter toward women of any age. He felt they were nothing but worthless creatures put on the earth to do a man’s bidding, particularly his. He began to pick on the younger girls in school. Several times he took liberties with their persons. His father tried to intervene, but disciplining Byron only made him worse.”
“What happened?” Ethan asked when she didn’t continue.
“When he was fifteen, there was a girl, a lovely young woman a year younger than Byron. He cornered her out in the barn and tried to rape her. Her brother stumbled onto him or he would have succeeded.”
“Fifteen.”
“That’s right. There was a meeting after it happened. A very harsh punishment was handed out. Byron took the punishment, but he refused to apologize to the girl. He said her sinful ways were to blame for his actions. He was forced to leave. His father tried to get him help with friends in other communities, but Byron just disappeared. No one has seen him since.”
“Is his father still around?”
“No. Jacob built furniture. He taught his craft to Byron, but Jacob died a few years after his son left home.”
“Any other family? Anyone else here who might be able to give us information on Byron’s whereabouts?”
“Not that I know of. No one’s been in contact with Byron for more than ten years.”
“One last thing,” Ethan said. “As I look around, I don’t see any photographs. I’m guessing you don’t have any pictures that might include Byron Mahler.”
“Exodus 20:4, Mr. Brodie. Thou shalt not make any graven images. Though photographs are occasionally taken of us by outsiders, you will rarely see anyone face-on.”
“The police need to find this man, Mrs. Bruckner. I was at the home of the woman who was murdered. What happened to her was brutal beyond description. Would you consider talking to a sketch artist, allowing someone to come here and draw a picture of Mahler as you remember him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can do that. At least not without speaking to the others. Perhaps they will agree. Murder is a serious crime. They will want to help if they can.”
“All right. In the meantime, could you at least give me a basic description? I understand Byron was only fifteen, but was he tall? Short? Blond? Dark? Anything would be helpful.”
The petite woman took a deep breath. For a moment, she closed her eyes, as if trying to dredge up memories. “At fifteen, Byron was tall for his age and quite thin, a gangly young man who rarely smiled. He was dark-haired, but his eyes were a very pale shade of blue. Aside from that, he was an average-looking teenage boy. Oh, except for the scar on his forearm.”
Ethan straightened. “Tell me about the scar.”
“He and his father were cutting wood with a whipsaw when something went wrong. The boy was badly injured. The accident left him with a scar about ten inches long on his forearm.”
When the woman fell silent, Ethan dug out a business card and handed it over. “You’ve been a very big help, Mrs. Bruckner. With luck, we won’t need to involve you in this any further. But if Byron Mahler is the man who murdered the young woman in Dallas, he needs to be stopped. With what you’ve told us, we may be able to make that happen.”
“You did the right thing,” Val said, reaching over to squeeze the woman’s hand. “I believe it’s what your husband would have wanted you to do.”
The woman’s eyes glistened. She brushed a drop of wetness from her cheek. “Thank you, dear, for saying that.”
Mrs. Bruckner walked them to the door, and they stepped out onto the porch. Ethan’s hand settled at Val’s waist as he guided her back to the rental car.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Just before they reached the highway, Ethan pulled the car to the side of the road. He didn’t turn off the engine, just left it running and the air conditioner on.
“What are you doing?” Val asked, watching him work his iPhone.
“Googling Byron Mahler. Seeing if there’s any chance he’ll show up on the Internet. These days you never know.”
“I’ll check Facebook.” Val pulled out her own cell and started working.
